


Best Celly Ever

by kayxpc



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Celebratory Sex, Fluff, M/M, hockey milestones, patater
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-21 20:39:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13748826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kayxpc/pseuds/kayxpc
Summary: Tater hits a milestone.





	Best Celly Ever

**Author's Note:**

> amazing world & characters courtesy of Ngozi Ukazu :))

Kent kicks his feet up on the coffee table, right hand stroking down Kit’s soft fur as he listens to the announcers ring in the second period. Yesterday the Aces beat the Stars at home so he’s taking it easy in preparation for the game tomorrow. He got into a scuffle with a d-man, gave him a split lip but didn’t walk away clean. There’s an ice pack on the inside of his thigh that hurts like a mother fucker; but helps with the ache.

The Falconers are demolishing the Ducks on Kent’s fifty inch plasma. Second period and it’s 3-0 with no real hope of Anaheim recovering with the way they’re playing. Kent’s lounging back on the plush cushions of the sectional, comfortable in sweats and one of Alexei’s shirts that he might have lifted from his hockey bag the last time he was here. It’s huge on him, soft and smells like fabric softener.

It’s hard to not drop his feet to the ground and scoot his ass to the edge of his seat while watching. Especially when Alexei has the puck, passes to Zimms and races into place, glove side, ducks around the defender and shoves the puck past the goalie’s skate.

“Yes,” Kent hisses, proud, just a little turned on. The camera zooms in on the celly, to Alexei’s gorgeous-mouth-guarded smile, the banner and announcers shouting _MASHKOV’S 200TH NHL GOAL._

“Holy _shit_ , Kit.” The ice pack slides to the floor when he sits up and runs his hands through his hair. “Oh my god, _baby_.”

His hands are trembling as he types into his phone. First, a text to Alexei.

_BABE_

Then, a purchased ticket for a flight that leaves in t-minutes thirty minutes. Luckily, everything in Vegas is five seconds away from his apartment, including the airport. He takes his phone, makes sure kit has water and flies out the fucking door. The flight is an hour and Kent doesn’t get any of his messages until he gets a cab outside the airport.

“Get me there in ten and I’ll make it worth your while.” He says to the driver, already knowing what hotel the Falcs are at. They usually go for the Hilton anyway, but Alexei had mentioned it. He forces himself to buckle up and scrolls through his text messages.

Two from Bitty, three from Alexei.

_Bitty: holy moly, Tater is on fire tonight._

_Bitty: 200 GOALS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!_

_Alexei: you see game?_

_Alexei: how is leg?_

_Alexei: call me, am worried._

The third breaks Kent’s heart a little, because he knows Alexei gets worried about him being alone so often. They both despise the distance, but they knew what they were getting into, dating a professional hockey player. They see each other as much as possible, but Kent can’t help but dream about the day that they can live together, wake up together, make breakfast and know that the other isn’t leaving.

He shoves those thoughts away, knowing that distance is about to be solved to the nth degree.

 _To Alexei: give me a min._  
  
Kent grins to himself stupidly, he’s still in sweats and Alexei’s shirt and he’s lucky he remembered to put shoes on. His heart won’t stop racing. 

“Fucking lifesaver man.” Kent shouts from the car he’s already outside of, tosses two hundreds through the passenger window and jogs into the hotel lobby. He slows down so he doesn’t drawl more attention but takes seven flights of stairs -thank fuck he’s an athlete- and runs down the hallway to 704— the room Zimms had informed him Tater was in. God bless him. 

He restrains his knock to two anonymous raps, and bites down on his lip hard. Alexei opens the door after a minute, still in a tight undershirt that says _Falconers Hockey_ over his chest and nothing else except boxers and socks. 

Kent’s face hurts from smiling so much. Alexei’s mouth is open, his eyes wide and he looks absolutely adorable. Kent could scream. 

“Two hundred fucking goals.” 

“ _Kenny!_ ” 

Kent jumps on him. Perks of dating Alexei Mashkov include being caught like you weight absolutely nothing and promptly pinned against the door. 

“You not answer my texts, was worried.” Alexei mumbles, his mouth muffled against Kent’s collarbone where he seems to have nested, breathing in Kent’s scent. He probably smells like his house. 

“I was on a plane.” Kent laughs, hands tugging Alexei’s soft hair and pulling his mouth up to kiss him. It’s only been a week and a half, eleven days to be exact, but Kent goes incredibly fuzzy after that kiss, the heady, hot feel of Alexei’s mouth on his. 

“Kenny, why you not in Vegas? You have game.”

“Two hundred goals,” Kent says insistently. “I knew you were close but fuck. Alexei, I’m so proud of you.”

He’s holding Alexei’s face with both hands, and tips his forehead against his. He feels like crying and he doesn’t know why. He wants to squeeze Alexei’s face, to kiss him all over.

“Was good night. Snowy get shutout.”

Kent laughs, he hadn’t even checked the score in the cab but a shutout makes this win even better. He leans down and kisses Alexei’s mouth again, slick and hot. A shiver wracks through him as he’s pressed harder into the door, Alexei’s hands roaming to his thighs and ass, his half hard dick pressed to Kent’s. Kent scrapes his teeth over his bottom lip, swallowing the grunt Alexei gives and wrapping his arms tighter around his neck.

Alexei holds his weight up and carries him towards the bed, laying him down underneath him, heavy heat pressing Kent into the duvet and making him flush warmly all over.

“So good,” Kent breathes, raking his hands through Alexei’s dark hair. He kisses him again, and before Alexei can move he says, “fuck my mouth, yeah?”

Alexei squeezes his eyes shut, forehead dropping onto Kent’s shoulder, hands clenching at his waist like he’s trying not to come. Kent loves it so much he could cry, that he can bring Alexei to this with practically nothing.

Alexei sits up, straddling Kent’s waist and hooks his boxers down past his balls. It’s sloppy and sexy, like he can’t wait long enough to take them off. Kent licks his lips.

“Evil, Kent Parson.” Alexei mutters, settling over Kent’s chest and prompting his mouth open with his thumb. Kent hums agreeably, mouth watering, taking Alexei down.

Alexei goes slow at first, making sure everything’s wet enough to slide and affirms that Kent’s ready before he thrusts. Alexei’s dick is fairly long, but Kent’s got a strong stomach and even when Alexei brings tears to his eyes he can manage his gag reflex. It feels good to take whatever Alexei gives him, to take it and love it and hear to the broken moans he gets for it.

After a few minutes, Alexei pulls out, groaning and impatiently groping any part of Kent he could reach.

“Best,” Alexei praises, kissing tears off of Kent’s cheeks. Kent hums, feeling his throat already sore from being used. Then, he’s divesting Kent of every stitch of clothing, smirking at Kent wearing his shirt, and pushing his knees to his chest.

“Hold.” Alexei says, voice so rough with arousal it makes Kent’s dick leak a stupid amount onto his stomach. “Stay.”

Alexei pulls off his shirt as he walks over to his hockey bag and finds his emergency lube. He’s flushed and there’s still the faintest hint of a hickey Kent left on the base of his throat. His dark hair is pulled in every direction and his mouth is swollen and breathing hard as he puts lube on two fingers and Kent’s breathless with how beautiful he is.

“Hurry,” Kent demands, already ready for three fingers because it hasn’t been that long and it’s not like he doesn’t do this on his own.

“ _Am_ ,” Alexei grunts, fucking a third finger into him and slapping the inside of his thigh.

Kent moans, hips wild without Alexei holding him down but it doesn’t matter because Alexei sits up and takes over holding his legs and presses inside. It’s so good, better than Kent ever remembers. Usually he thinks— _no way it’s that good._

(It is.)

Alexei doesn’t stop until their hips are snug. He turns his head and presses a reverent kiss to Kent’s ankle and Kent closed his eyes and tries not to pass out from how much he loves that, him, Alexei.

“Okay?”

“Yes,” Kent says, opening his eyes and meeting Alexei’s gaze. He looks the slightest bit concerned, but he trusts Kent enough to rock his hips back and slide forward, his dick throbbing with how incredibly tight Kent is.

Alexei licks over his bottom lip. He lets go of Kent’s legs so they fall open to the side and leans down, chest to chest and kisses him.

“Happiest you are here,” he murmurs, still fucking into Kent slow and deep. Kent hums, kissing the corner of his mouth in between breaths.

“You’re amazing,” Kent tells him, and he means it. He’s never been more proud of anyone. Not jack, not himself. Watching Alexei play makes his heart race, he feels his shots like a hand squeezing his, his goals like a hard kiss. He feels his losses too, terribly, wants to wrap him up and kiss his hair. He’s never felt this and as terrifying as that is, Alexei makes it all okay.

Alexei kisses him sweetly, sits back and rolls his hips so smoothly into Kent’s prostate that he sees stars. Kent could come right then, as soon as he touches his dick—

Alexei smacks his hand away and brushes his thumbs over his nipples roughly.

“Come like this. Just my cock,” Alexei tells him, his accent a shade heavier in the face of arousal. Kent gasps and nods, willing to obey anything he says.

It takes a little longer, but Alexei’s there. He lets Kent get his fingers wet and then plays with his nipples, kisses him thoroughly, grinds into his prostate, and sucks a red mark under Kent’s ear.

His lips are soft when they brush Kent’s earlobe and he says softly “I love you, Kenny.”

Kent‘s back bows, and his fingertips dig into Alexei’s back as he comes. His legs tremble and a flash of pain pierces his thigh from tensing up so hard and it makes the waves of pleasure spike until he can’t breathe but when he does it’s Alexei’s name on his lips.

He’s vaguely aware of Alexei pulling out, kissing his temple and coming back with a warm cloth to wipe him down. He snuggles in beside Kent and throws a sheet over them. The next thing Kent knows he’s got his mouth pressed against his collarbone. It’s just the brush of his lips, an almost unconscious thing. Alexei’s hands are stroking his hair and down his back.

“Jesus fuck,” Kent says. Alexei snorts, his big, goofy laugh because Kent probably hasn’t spoken since he came. Alexei moves back to look at him.

“Good?” He says.

“Fucking right,” Kent agrees, putting both hands on Alexei’s face and pulling him into a kiss.

“Best celly ever,” Alexei hums.

It’s Kent’s turn to snort.


End file.
